When my house remodel started, I rented a Pod. I highly recommend this, bc it made moving my stuff in and out a breeze. Well, as breezy as something like that can be! It was an eyesore for two long months, but I'm grateful for that luxury.

So in moving my stuff out, I also got rid of a good 3/4ths of the things in my house. See, this house is a gift, the greatest gift of my life, and came with a lifetime of family memories as well as a lifetime of THINGS. SO. MANY. THINGS. A lot of them my own, but mostly an accumulation of the things a family of six collects over 40 years.

Moving my things back in was a way different experience than out. I kept a fraction of what was, even giving away things that were stored, and in settling back in, I'm being super intentional with what I keep and what I give away. Now, the only things that are in my house that were not originally mine, are the things I treasure with my entire heart. My grandparent's vintage dresser that still smells like their house, their owl light switch cover, my mom's owl cookie jar that was passed around in the family until it got to me.

While I used to have a really difficult time with letting things go, I came to the realization that donating or discarding things does not mean I wasn't grateful for them, or that they didn't mean something to me. It means they served their purpose and now they'll serve someone else.

Moving back in, I was really worried this "new" space wouldn't feel like the only home I've ever known. I was so wrong. The love doesn't live in the walls, the memories weren't discarded with the broken foundation.

I find myself often overwhelmed with gratitude for this space, my home, my sacred place. I'm pouring love and care into it, every single evening after pouring love into Very That. It's an amazing chapter in my life, one that I feel very deeply.